


Don't Look Back In Anger

by lastgoldsun



Series: The Shadow of a Moment [1]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8955565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastgoldsun/pseuds/lastgoldsun
Summary: You found a job in a village just outside of Hotten. The man who employed you was fair but solemn, never engaging in idle chit-chat. He had two sons. The elder of the two was friendly enough, though clearly worn beyond his years. The younger was something else entirely. He was scrappy and loud. Easily distracted. A slacker and a trouble-maker. He was the kind of lad you hated, but he took a shine to you immediately. He wasn’t kind. He teased you relentlessly, ribbing you over the slightest thing and laughing when you bit back. You thought he hated you.
An exploration of teenage Robert's relationship with the unnamed "lad who helped on the farm".





	

You were no stranger to a bit of hard graft. It was in your blood, that’s what your dad always said. No son of his was going to be afraid of a hard day’s work. You always admired that about him. A carpenter by trade, he worked and worked until his hands turned into claws. Osteoarthritis. The doctor told him he’d have to give up his livelihood. Your mum didn’t want you to go out to work. She wanted you to focus on school, but the truth was you never liked school that much anyway. Family was everything to you, and you wanted to step up, be a proud man like your father before you. Fifteen was old enough.

You found a job in a village just outside of Hotten. The man who employed you was fair but solemn, never engaging in idle chit-chat. He had two sons. The elder of the two was friendly enough, though clearly worn beyond his years. The younger was something else entirely. He was scrappy and loud. Easily distracted. A slacker and a trouble-maker. He was the kind of lad you hated, but he took a shine to you immediately. He wasn’t kind. He teased you relentlessly, ribbing you over the slightest thing and laughing when you bit back. You thought he hated you.

 

You witnessed the argument from across the yard. You were shifting hay bales and trying to look like you weren’t watching. You couldn’t make out what was being said, only that it was being said with venom. He turned away from his father and stormed in your direction, pushing you out the way in his rush to get out of the yard. You watched him go, and when his father had gone back indoors, you followed him out of the yard. You didn’t know why. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

You found his down by the cattle field, leaning on the fence with a scowl on his face. You stopped about half a metre to his left, not saying anything but making him aware of your presence.

_Enjoy the show, did you?_

You shook your head.

_Then what’re you doing here? If you’re not here to gloat._

_I just wanted to see if you were okay._

He snorted. You immediately regretted following him. Your mum could talk for England, your sister too, but you and your dad were men of few words. His idea of comfort was a pat on the shoulder. You doubted it would work, but you tried. He tensed under your touch and you removed your hand immediately, feeling your cheeks flush. You had no idea why you were so embarrassed.

_It’s just school stuff. Dad thinks I’m not trying._

_Are you?_

_Yeah, of course._

You bit your lip, trying to think of a way to make your escape.

_Andy does worse than me at school. Dad doesn’t tell him off. Says he’s trying his best. Always saying I can do better though._

He spoke in clipped sentences, listing facts with as little emotion as possible. It was weird seeing him like this, devoid of all his usual cockiness and snark. It felt wrong.

_Maybe he’s just having a bad day._

_He’s always having a bad day._

You picked at the splintered wood of the face. You looked in every direction but his. You already regretted what you were going to say next.

_My dad too._

_Huh?_

_My dad. He’s always in a bad mood. He lost his job a few months back and he hates being in the house all day but he can’t work cus his joints are bad. He takes it out on us a bit. I just try to stay out of his way._

He nods. He doesn’t look at you, but his posture relaxes slightly.

_You want to come and help me shift some hay?_

He finally looked at you, smirking in a way that made your heart pick up in a way that you didn’t want to think about.

_Sounds awful. Less awful than your terrible attempts at playing therapist though._

You walked back up to the yard together, close enough for your elbows to touch.

 

He was a lot kinder after that. He still teased you, but the teasing was a lot less frequent, punctuated with laughter and private jokes. He always waited for you in the yard. Always made sure you took on jobs that required two sets of hands. Always walked down to the bus stop with you at the end of the day. At lunch time you’d go up to his room together where he’d enthuse about whatever comic book or sci-fi novel he was reading that week and you’d introduce him to whatever band you’d been listening to. You made copies of all your favourite tapes for him, trying to drag him kicking and screaming away from that Top of the Pops rubbish he liked. He pretended that he hated it, claiming that you were a snob, but when you caught him singing a Blur song under his breath while he shovelled horse shit in the stables you couldn’t stop smiling for the best part of fifteen minutes.

You’d never had a best friend before. Not really. You had mates, people you’d known since primary school, but they all came and went as they pleased, never making much of an impression. There was something different about this, something easy, something that was just _right._

Over dinner one night, your mum told you that she was going to take on more hours at the supermarket so you wouldn’t have to work at the farm any more. You smiled at her thankfully, but the idea made you feel sick. Like you missed him already.

 

You got a Walkman off your Nan for your sixteenth birthday. It was the best thing you’d ever owned. You’d seen kids at school with them before, and the jealously you felt had been unreal. The ability carry music wherever you went and show it to whoever you wanted. Now, that ability was all yours. You packed it in your work rucksack the day after. You couldn’t wait to show him.

When you got to the farm, he was fresh out of an argument with his brother. You found him stomping around the chicken coop, scattering the birds as he went. You took the basket he was carrying and collected the eggs yourself while he watched on, his arms folded across his chest.

_It’s like he knows he’s Dad’s favourite. He knows and all he ever does is rub it in my face._

_He probably doesn’t mean it._

_I see he’s got you fooled and all._

You stood up straight and looked and him. You expected him to be scowling in that childish way he always did, but he wasn’t. His forehead was furrowed and his mouth was pressed into a thin line.

_I don’t think he’s trying to fool anyone, mate._

He shook his head, though at what you weren’t sure.

_It’ll blow over._

It was clear immediately that you’d said the wrong thing. His expression clouded over and he turned on his heel, heading back in the direction of the house. You forgot the chickens and ran after him, catching him by his wrist when he was halfway across the yard. You wanted to pull your hand away when you felt the electric current flow from him to you. You were fighting against survival instinct, but you held on.

_Stop. Please. I’m sorry._

He didn’t look at you, but he didn’t try to walk away either.

_Everyone always picks him over me._

_I wouldn’t._

He looked at you then. For a moment you thought he was going to cry, but that moment went as quickly as it came.

_I wouldn’t. I won’t. I promise, not ever._

He considered you for a moment, then nodded and shook his arm free. He headed back in the direction of the chicken coop. You stayed where you were, not wanting to follow him if he didn’t want to be followed.

He looked back at you over his shoulder. You understood. You smiled as you jogged to catch up to him.

 

_Is the battery life any good?_

_Dunno, I’ve only had it a day._

He turned the Walkman over in his hands, running a thumb across the blue shell. You were sat on his bed side-by-side. knees millimetres away from touching. You didn’t know why you kept measuring the distance whenever you were near him. You didn’t want to think about why.

_How’s the sound quality?_

_Pretty good. Here._

You took the Walkman back and shifted so you were facing him. You pressed play and slipped the headphones over his ears. You didn’t let your hands linger, dropping them to your sides as soon as the headphones were in place. You weren’t sure which song you’d been listening to on your way to work that day, but you soon recognised the muffled melody of Oasis’s ‘Champagne Supernova’. He pulled a face, a light hearted dig at your taste in music, but soon dropped the façade and smiled. You sat there for a few moments, just watching as he listened. You found yourself spotting details of his face that you’d never noticed before. The faded freckles on his cheeks. The barely noticeable scar above his right eyebrow.

You weren’t sure who leant in first.

You were close, so close that his nose was pressed into your cheek. Your heart was fluttering and your head was spinning like you were about to pass out. He pushed forward. His lips brushed against yours. Not a kiss, not yet. He was seeing what you do. Wondering if you’d run, not realising that running was the last thing you wanted to do. This was new, but it was right. You wished you could tell him just how right it felt, but you couldn’t find the words.

So you kissed him.

The door opened and he jumped back like you’d given him an electric shock. The look on his face turned your blood to ice water. You’d never seen anyone look so scared.

His father was stood in the doorway, one hand on the door handle. He was still in his coat and work boots. His face was dangerously blank.

_Dad, I-_

He thrust the headphones back at you like they were evidence of something sordid.

_Dad, it’s not what it looks like, we weren’t-_

He didn’t get a chance to answer. His dad stormed across the room and hit him across the face. Not just a slap. He hit him. Hard. He fell back onto his bed and covered his face with his arms. You jumped to your feet. His dad turned on you.

_Get out._

You didn’t move. You couldn’t. You just watched while his dad grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him to his feet. His knees gave way, leaving him dangling helplessly from his father’s grip.

_I said get out. And I never want to see you on my land again, y’hear?_

You could feel your eyes burning. Your father’s voice echoed around your head telling you that boys don’t cry.

_It was my fault. Please don’t hurt him. I was the one who kissed him._

He looked up when you said that. His expression turned fierce.

_Nothing happened._

_I-_

_Nothing happened. Get out._

_Robert-_

_Get. Out._

So you do.

You were halfway down the stairs when you heard the blows start to fall. You held a hand to your mouth and clutched the bannister until your knuckles turned white, trying with all your might not to scream.

 

You passed under his window on your way out of the farm. You dared to look up. Dared to hope that he’d be up there and you’d be able to say goodbye. To see him one last time before forever started.

But the curtains were closed. So you left.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://r-ogersbarnes.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/sugdensrobert)


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